


Double Blind

by ReigningMoon



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Astrology, Dark Arts, M/M, Occult, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5129756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReigningMoon/pseuds/ReigningMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward finds a new way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Blind

**Author's Note:**

> "Sex magic is a spiritual practice that uses sexual desire to manifest tangible effect in the physical world. One of the most powerful experiences we have as human beings is orgasmic energy, and if we can pair it with intent, then we can direct the most powerful manifesting force on earth."

 

“ _When the Sagittarian Moon is in the sixth house and Venus aligns with Vulcan, it is auspicious to draw the chart of the Seventh Solar Nexus. This will bring the Novice into contact with Regelus Minor and form the first tier of The Crystal . the first tier must be sealed with water until the second tier can be formed. Then, when Orion’s belt is overhead, draw the chart for the life to be restored. It must be drawn on vellum paper with either the blood of the Receiver, or new ink as black as night.”_

 

Ed shuts the book with a loud snap, causing a small dust cloud. He drums his fingers on the desk. This is bunch of nonsense, mumbo-jumbo, bullshit. Still, still, he was familiar with _some_ of it. The names of planets, constellations, the need to draw charts/arrays. Could this possibly? Possibly be a code? Coded journals were not uncommon in Alchemy. Edward, himself, encoded many of his journal entries. Yes! That had to be it! The real text was encoded! He reopens the book, pulls a sheet of paper out of the drawer, dips his pen in the ink well, and….

 

_“The second tier must be begun when Leo crosses Eridanus in the second House and completed before Virgo enters therein. Once Virgo enters the Second House, this tier must be sealed with Earth. Now the Birth chart of the Receiver must be drawn and studied for any discrepancies or conflicts with that of the Donor. Once this is done and no conflicts are noted, the chart must be drawn with cesium upon an iron and the proper invocations recited.”_

　

Try as he might, Edward can not decipher the code _,_ nor can he find the key. Al is usually good at things like this., but Ed hides the book from him and his notes. He doesn’t want his brother to worry about it. Hunting the Philosopher Stone is bad enough, but this was down right weird. No doubt Alphonse would laugh at him. So, Ed works on it alone whenever he gets the chance. For weeks he tries to break the code, until the code seemingly breaks him. With the book open before him, Edward covers his face with his hands. His throat constricts, chest clenches, guts twist. “Stupid fucking book.” he mutters, “Crock of shit. Life Crystal. Stupid fucking fairytale.” One fat tear rolls down his cheek and lands on the left margin of Chapter 3, Page 10, Paragraph 11.

Words form under the salty liquid. A name and an address: M. Tarnak, 5460 Delham Road East, Crescent City, Amestris. Crescent City is just a short train ride, north east of Central. Edward is elated. This M. Tarnak must be, or must

know, the author of the journal.

Crescent City is a Winter resort town set at the foot of the mountains. There is great skiing, sledding and other winter sports, fine restaurants, good hotels, shopping. In Winter, that is. It is mid July now and the place is a virtual ghost town. The few locals who would talk seem friendly enough, but few bother to give the Elrics a second glance. They find a relatively cheap room in a relatively expensive hotel and a hot meal for Edward.

Why are we here, Brother?” Al asks quietly, “It doesn’t seem like any alchemists would even _want_ to live here. Are you sure your information is correct?”

“Just trust me, okay?” Edward smiled up at him, “So, let’s split up and scope this place out. Meet back here around six?”

“Okay.”

Ed pretends to walk away in the opposite direction, looking over his shoulder until he saw his brother turn the corner and disappear, then hurries back to their room. He has a good four hours to read the journal, and make notes.

　

_“Once all charts are deemed harmonious, the Third tier may be created. This is done upon the waning of the third quarter of the gibbous moon in the sign of Gemini. Note that Gemini must be crossing the seventh house for this to be effective. First, draw the chart of the Donor on new parchment with blood from the Receiver. If for some reason this is not readily available, the fresh blood of a male raven will suffice. Or, in extreme circumstance, blood red ink. Next, the chart of the Receiver must be drawn on the reverse, but with blood from the Donor, a white female dove, or azure ink. This parchment is to be burned over a brazier and the ashes mixed with blood from both parties. The third tier must now be sealed with Air”_

Edward can’t sleep that night, or at least that’s what he’s told his brother. “I think I’ll take a walk.” he says, pulling his jacket on. When Al makes to get up to follow, he is stopped by, “No, Al, I’d-uh-kinda like to be alone for a bit? You understand, don’t you, buddy?”

“S-sure, Brother. Okay.” Al sounds disappointed and more than a little worried.

Ed makes sure the book is in the pocket of his red coat, “I won’t be long.”

“Be careful.”

“Sure.”

Finding Delham Road East is fairly easy due to directions from an overly friendly barman in a nearby pub. The street itself is poorly lit and completely deserted. It is only by sheer dumb luck that he comes across the little shop. _‘Ancient Arts Books. M. Tarnak, proprietor.’_ Perfect! Ed pushes the door open and steps inside. The shop is filled with not only books, but bottles of oils, tied herbs hanging from strings, chalices, powders, daggers and swords in a display case The incense makes him sneeze.

“Be right with you!” a male voice calls from the back.

Edward continues to study the shelves for a few minutes.

A man appears from behind the red curtains. He is an older , around 50ish, black hair going grey, beady little black eyes. Well groomed, impeccably dressed. “May I help you, sir?”

Edward gets the feeling this man is sizing him up, taking his measure. It makes him decidedly uncomfortable. “Yeah.” he pulls out the journal, lays it carefully on the counter, “Are you M. Tarnak? Did you write this?”

“Yes, sir, I am Maurice Tarnak, but, as for _this_ drivel? Most certainly not! Now, if there is nothing else..”

Ed bangs his fist on the counter, “I knew it! I fucking knew it!”

“I would think a State Alchemist would be able to recognize bunk when he saw it.” Tarnak sniffs.

Almost as an act of desperation, Ed asks Tarnak about the Philosopher’s Stone.

“What interest have you in that?”

For some reason Edward has told Mr. Tarnak his and Al’s whole story. “I want to get my brother back.”

“I do not deal in Alchemy, Mr. Elric.”

“What do you deal in, then?”

“I practice what you would call sorcery, or magic. Witchcraft.”

Edward laughs.

Tarnak frowns, “It is no laughing matter, young man. Witchcraft and Alchemy are closely related, yet very different. You want your brother back? Forget this nonsense!” he swept the journal from the counter, “And forget the Philosophers’ Stone! That path will only bring you more pain, more sorrow, than you can imagine!” then he leaned down and half whispered, “There are other ways to restore a soul. To defeat the Gate.”

Ed looks up, wary, but interested, “Go on.”

Tarnak stands up and steps from behind the counter, “Please, let us get more comfortable.” he disappears behind the curtin, “come, Mr. Elric.”

Edward stands there for a second before stepping thru.

On the other side of the curtains is a comfortable, well appointed, parlor with two chairs set before a fireplace. Tarnak indicates the chairs, “Please, be seated.”

Ed sits down, watching Tarnak carefully as the man pours two drinks and hands him one. Ed sniffed it, “Liquor? Mister, I’m only 17.” and makes to hand it back.

Tarnak laughs as he seats himself, “Mr. Elric, you are priceless! You have been imbibing alcohol since you were…let me see? 13? Or is it 12?.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Ed demands.

“I know all about you.”

“You read my mind.” Ed says sarcastically.

“No. Heaven’s no.” Tarnak sips his drink, “No, I read your _soul_. You are the Donor. The Protector. The Warrior. The Lover. You were born under the sign of the Lion and you seek to restore Balance to your universe, you seek to restore the one who balances you. Libra. The Receiver. The receiver of your protection, your love, the one whom you would fight and die for. “

Edward fidgets. Finally taking a swallow of the scotch, he does not speak.

“Ah! I see I have hit a soft spot.” Tarnak smirks, “Found your weakness, as it were. The boy whose soul you bound to the armor, your brother? He is the Receiver, no?”

Edward gulps down the rest scotch, “No. You’re wrong!”

“Come, Come. If I am to help you we must be honest with one another. Your brother is the Receiver?”

“Yes.”

“His soul is trapped in a hulking, unfeeling shell of steel? His body trapped behind the Gate? “

“Yes.”

“It is easy enough to take a soulless body from the Gate. After all it is not the body it wants, but the soul.”

Ed frowned into his empty glass, “What the hell do you mean _it doesn’t want the body?_ It took my fucking arm and leg.”

Tarnak stands and brings the bottle over, refills Ed’s glass, “It meant to have all of you. You beat it once, you can do it again. I have no doubt. You have the power, the potential to be a great warlock, Edward.”

Ed laughs to hear himself called a warlock, “Fuck you, I’m an Alchemist.”

“Only one step to the right of witchcraft. You want your brother back because he completes you, because you long for him, because his soul is not enough. Am I not correct?” Tarnak peers at Ed, “I see by your flushed face that I am.. And, dare I say? You love him?”

“Of corse I love him.” Ed snaps, “He’s my brother.” He finishes the second drink.

Tarnak pours him a third, “You want to kick the Gate in the balls and take your brother’s body back.”

“Fuck, yea.”

“Then I will teach you.” Tarenak smiles benevolently.

The alcohol is fuzzing Edward’s mind, all he can do is nod.

“Come back here tomorrow night. Alone.”

　

Edward staggers into the hotel room. He has no real idea of how he got back there, or weather or not his meeting with Tarnak had been a dream or reality. His head is spinning and he can barely walk.

“Brother!” Al exclaims when Ed stumbles into the room, “Where have you been? It’s nearly dawn! I was so worried!” Al stands up, “Are you okay, Brother?”

Ed gives him a lopsided smile, “Jus’ fine, Al. Jus need some sleep is all.”

He crawls onto the bed, without even removing his coat or boots, “G’nite, little brother. Love ya.”

Over the next few weeks Alphonse thinks Brother is acted very strange indeed. He seems to sleep most of the day, and will disappear at night. Either sneaking out while Al was ‘meditating’ or offering some sort of lame excuse such as, “I need to think.” or “I just want to be alone” or even, “I have a date.” A date? Ed’s behavior is starting to bother Al very much or is he just over anylyzing Ed’s behaviors, reading the worst possible things into it? Still, it took him several nights to realize that Brother was turning up just a few hours before dawn, drunk. The few times he tries to follow Brother Ed evades him. In fact, Brother seems to just _vanish_ , especially near the corner of Snowmass Street and Delham Road east. Al was concerned, yes. Worried, definatly. Hurt, very much so. Because his big brother is avoiding him. Al is feeling very much left out and very, very lonely. Out most of the night, sleeping most of the day, it frightens Al. Not only that but any mention of either the Philosopher’s Stone, or getting Al’s body back seems to make Ed’s temper flair. At Alphonse. So, Al sits alone in his armor shell, feeling deserted.

Edward stands in Mr. Tarnak’s parlour raises his hands and claps, when he draws his hands apart a crackle of purple energy appears between them, lengthening as he draws his hands further apart. Then he gathers it into a rough sphere and draws his hands apart again, effectively increasing the size of the charge. Then he pushes it away. The charge hits the wall, glows and disappates.

“Not bad, Edward, you are improving. But you still have a way before you can fight the Gate. Your Erg needs to be much stronger, the color needs to be red. And you need to be much faster if you want to force the gate to open.” Tarnak taps the floor with his stick, “Again.”

Ed frowned, this is so much harder than Alchemy. It requires no array, no drawn equations, no _science_ , just a damn lot of concentration and will. Again he claps, again draws his hands apart, but this time the energy sparks and buzzes yellow. And when he pushes it, it hits the wall with a spider’s web of electric charges.

Tarnak shakes his head, barely disguised delight in his eyes, “Electric Erg? Very good. But ineffective against the Gate. You need Fire Erg, boy! Where is your legendary temper? Aren’t you angry that your beloved brother has been taken away from you? _Use that!_ ”

Edward seems at a loss. His mind conflicting between the science he knows as Alchemy and what Tarnak is teaching him, what he is practicing, and the mere fact that he could even do it. Magic.

“Go on, lad. Keep trying. You haven’t much time now. It’s already August, You must have this down before the Maid walks in.”

“The Maid?”

“Virgo, you young twit!”

“My watch. I need my watch it amplifies..” Ed glanced at his State Alchemist watch which was lying on the table.

Tarnak bangs his staff on the floor, “Alchemy!! This is NOT ALCHEMY! This is about feeling and intent! Do you want your brother back, or not!”

“Yes. Yes, I fucking want him back!” Edward shouts.

“Now, boy. Do it.” says the older man, “Do it now.”

Angrily, Edward claps, draws his hands apart and feels his palms heat up as a band of red energy spread between them. Fire! He forms the sphere, increases it. Then pushes it away. The firey ball hits the wall where it crackles and flames. Then dissipates.

“Good! Good! Again! Faster this time!” Tarnak encourages, “Think of how your brother has been mistreated! Hurt by the Gate!”

Instead of clapping Edward drops his hands to his sides, and hangs his head, “It’s me who mistreated him. Me, who hurts him. I did it. It’s all my fault.”

Tarnak stand, “Guilt and remorse, you carry them around like a badge. A mantra written upon your heart. You enjoy it. Masochism does not become the Donor. You are powerful, both as an Alchemist, and a Warlock, but you dilute your left hand with guilt. You need to be the dominate one. You need to control. Your brother does not need you riddled with guilt. He needs you to be strong. He needs his donor to be strong and resolute! He needs you to FIGHT FOR HIM! TO BREAK OPEN THE GATE AND FREE HIM! IF YOU DO NOT THINK YOU ARE STRONG ENOUGH THEN LEAVE HIM THERE TO ROT!!” Tarnak shouted in Edward’s face.

_*clap*_

A bolt of fire shoots from Edward’s hands.

Tarnak blocks it with his staff. Again and again and again. Then finally sends a hard stream of water against the boy. Ed staggers but quickly recovers, “Is that all you got, old man? You wanna piece of me? Come on. Come on you old fart. Let’s go!”

Tarnak smiles wickedly, “Such fire from such a little fellow.”

That did it. Edward yells something about being so small you needed a magnifying glass to see him. At the same time he brings his hands together and shoots forth another fire bolt.

Again, easily deflected.

Edward Elric was nothing if not observant, and smart. Another clap brings forth his spear, which he wields now as a staff. Creating the ball of fire erg with his flesh hand, he amplifies it with the spear and shoots it toward his opponent.

Again, it is deflected.

After a few more minutes of fighting, Edward’s spear begins to glow red and the point becomes engulfed in flame. His attacks become faster, more precise, until Tarnak is finally thrown back against a wall. Laughing, the older man slides down the wall, “Excellent! Wonderful! That’s what I was talking about, young novice.”

Edward comes to his side, “I’m sorry, sir. Did I hurt you?”

He helps Tarnak stand.

The man goes to a small shelf and pulls out a book, “I want you to study this.” he hands the book to Ed. “It is about casting the circle, and purifying your mind and body for the final step.”

Edward taks the slim volume, “Can we spar again tomorrow?”

“Of corse, dear boy.”

As he slides his arms into his black jacket, Edward asks, “Hey. How come I didn’t burn your fucking house down?”

“It’s protected. Now, hurry along. Dawn is approaching.”

“Okay. See ya tomarrow, then.”

Edward steps out into the street strangely exhilarated. The Promised Day would come sooner than either he or Al imagined. And the new found power he held in his hands! Fan-fucking-tastic! He practically skips down Delham Road East, daring the few early morning passerby's to stare. No more a mere Alchemist, Edward Elric was becoming one of the most formidable creatures known to mankind: a Warlock. He repeated the word in his mind ‘Warlock’. Even just that word was enough to strike fear into people. Make them lock their doors at night and say prayers to whatever god they worshipped. Warlock AND Alchemist! Talk about power! Edward snickered at the thought of his next evaluation and recertification test. He’d show that Bastard Colonel fire erg! Oh, fuck, yeah!

　

　

Al turns around from his seat on the floor, “Brother!” he tries to put a smile into his voice, “Good Morning!”

Ed shuts the door, grinning, “Hey, Al.” and knocks affectionately on Al’s helmet. He sits on the bed yawning, “Let’s go scope out some food, I’m _starving_!”

Al stands up, his steel limbs screeching a bit, “Oh, sorry, Brother.”

Edward’s good mood comes crashing down at that sound, “What do you mean? Sorry?” He gets off the bed and goes to his brother, “Al? Sit down on the bed.”

“It’s nothing, Brother.”

“Sit. Down.”

Al obeys silently. Not even protesting when Edward starts to disassemble him, searching for the source of the noise.

“There were a few places I couldn’t reach with the oil.” Al explains sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you ask me to help?”

“You weren’t here, Brother.”

Edward keeps his guilty silence as he inspects the armor, finding small hairline cracks, and…rust on the edges. One of those tiny cracks is frightfully close to Al’s blood seal. Edward took a deep breath, “Hang on, Al, I’ll have you fixed up in no time.” Forgetting his growling stomach, Ed grabs the oil from their suitcase and the rag. He sits on the bed and begins to lovingly rub the protective oil over the pieces of armor, both inside and out. Along the edges. Carefully, carefully around the blood seal.

“What about your automail, Brother?”

“Oh, it’s fine. Just fine. Don’t, don’t worry about it, okay.”

“If you don’t take care of it, it’ll seize up, you won’t be able to move at all, and Winry will kill you!” Al scolds, as his arm is reattached.

“I said it was fine, Al.” and it was Tarnak had given Ed some oil that was keeping both arm and leg in excellent working order. He had already gotten used to the faint scent of patchouli.

Once put back together, Al says, “Okay, Brother. Are you still hungry?”

Ed smiles up at his little brother, “Straved! Let’s go to that place on Snowmass Street, they have the best hotcakes!”

Alphonse loves watching his brother enjoy those hotcakes, steaming hot with butter and maple syrup dripping down the sides. Secretly he longs to taste those buttery delights, and strawberries. Oh, strawberries! He couldn’t even remember now how food tasted, or felt in his mouth, or what it was like to _swallow._ And the way food, anything, a flower, smelled. The gentle scent of rain, of sun in clothes, of…Edward. To be able to feel, feel the rough wood of the table, of grass between his toes, of Brother’s skin. Secretly, Alphonse was jealous, a little angry, and…Oh! Wouldn’t the Promised Day _ever come_? It seemed to be further away every time, every night, that Bother slipped away. Every day that he only ate and slept. Every night when he was gone. Every night that he vanished with one stupid, lame excuse after another. Every night, every day, the search for the Philosopher’s Stone was forgotten, put aside, for, for _what?_ What in the wide world could Brother be doing? A girl? That seems highly unlikely, but Al couldn’t dismiss it entirely. After all Edward was at _that age_. A festering stew of hormones, nearly 18, and handsome as hell. Why not a girl? Or girls? Or, or, a boy? That thought scared Al even more than Edward being with a girl for some reason. In one sudden, horrible, revelation Alphonse thought he might be loosing Edward. That Ed was bored of the Quest, of Alphonse himself. But, no, no way, the Quest was just on a temporary hiatus. The Promised Day would come. Al had to believe that. Had to, as he followed Edward back to the hotel, back to their room. Had to believe it as he watched Brother pull his coat and jacket off, Drop his belt on the floor and his pants. Had to believe it as, clad in tank top and boxers, Ed climbed into the bed and allows Al to pull the light covers over him. Had to, absolutely had to believe it, as he settled on the floor near the bed to keep watch, and watched the sun rise to it’s zenith and marked the hours until twilight. For Alphonse knew that once that star had disappeared, and darkness descended, Edward would, once again, leave him. Leave him alone and lonely, with only his dark and frightend toughts.

　

The moment Edward enters Ancient Arts Books he says, “There’s a problem.”

Master Tarnak raises an eyebrow, “ A problem?”

“There’s a hairline fracture in Al’s armor, close to the blood seal.”

“Hmmm. That is a bit of a concern. But, not as bad as it seems. “

Ed frowns, “You don’t understand! I could lose him! I could fucking lose him!”

Leading the way into the back room, Tarnak says, “Are those the words of a lover? Or just a devoted brother?”

Ed doesn’t answer, but his expression is thunderous.

Tarnak chuckles, “Oh, I see. Please, forgive me? It is rare to see one brother so devoted to another. Now, though, to business: I think you are strong enough now to take on the Gate. I think you have a good chance of winning if, and only if, you forget the Alchemy, leave that damnedable pocket watch at home. Use your anger, there is much of it to use. Did you read the book I gave you?’

“yes.”

“Did you understand it?”

“No.”

“Alright, you needn’t understand it. But do you think you can _do_ it.”

Ed sat in one of the chairs, “It looked like a simple array, only with candles. Sure I can.” he said waving his hand dismissively. “So all I have to do is defeat the Gate and bring Al back thru? Sounds easy enough.”

Tarnak stands over him, “Do not get so cocky, boy! There is still the matter of reuniting the soul with the body. If you bring your brother’s body thru the Gate and fail to do this, he will die within a short time.”

Ed sits up, “What do I need do?”

Tarnak goes over to the familiar drink cart and pours the scotch, making sure to pour Edward a little more than usual. He hands the glass off and sits down “It isn’t very difficult, unless your squeemish.”

“How do you mean?”

“Drink up, my boy, drink up.” Tarnak raises his glass.

Edward needs little encouragement. He has come to like the taste of the liquor. Once the glass was half empty, and Edward’s head was sufficiently foggy, Master Tarnak spoke,” You love your brother, Ed.” it is a statement yet Ed answers, “Damn straight!”

“Love him more than a brother should. Love him beyond all hope and reason. You’d do _anything_ for him. Even die.” Master reaches over and refills Ed’s glass, “Then, perhaps this won’t be that hard for you?”

Ed’s eyes are drooping, “Yeah. I love him.”

“Usually the Donor and Receiver are opposite genders, occasionally a homosexual couple. But, understand, the Donor is always male.”

“Just what the fuck am I supposed to be the donor _of?’_ Ed’s speech slurs a bit, and his eyes were a bit blurry.

“Your life essence, Edward. “

“Huh?”

“Oh, there are other, more complicated, methods to transfer a soul into a free body. Methods that involve complex rituals and spells, methods involving an entire coven. This, however, need only involve Alphonse and yourself.” Tarnak pauses, taking a sip of his drink, “Sex Magic.”

“Huh?”

“By having intercourse with Alphonse, with intent on the transfer, and filling the body with your essence you will effect the transfer and seal the soul into the body.”

There was a long, long pause as Ed sets his empty glass down on the table with a _thunk_. The young man’s voice is calm as he says, “You are fucking kidding me.”

“ I couldn’t be more serious.”

“Hell no!” Ed’s voice rises, “Bullshit! No, fucking, way!”

Tarnak sits back in his chair, silently sipping his drink. He feels it best to keep silent and let the boy’s tirade spend itself. After all a Fire Warlock is one to be treated with caution. Especially a young one as volatile as Edward Elric.

“You want me to _fuck my baby brother_!!!” Ed is standing now, “INCEST!? Uh-uh! No fucking way! NO! I won’t do that to him. I couldn’t! I wouldn’t! I won’t!” A faint red glow appears around Ed’s body, so faint only another warlock could notice it. It was there though, a warning of his rising anger.

Master Tarnak calmly took a sip of his drink, while bracing himself and preparing for an attack. “I take it you’re not in favor of that method?”

“Listen, you bastard, I am not, repeat NOT, fucking my little brother! For _any_ reason! I won’t defile him like that!”

“You consider it defilement for him to have his body and soul reunited?’

“You know what I mean!” Ed gives a harsh little laugh, “Oh, so I get it now. This would all take place here, so you could _watch_. Is that how you get your kicks? Well, I hate to fucking disappoint you!” Ed snatches his pocket watch off the table, grabs his jacket and turns toward the curtained door.

“That’s too bad, Edward. I wish you luck in your quest for the Philosopher’s Stone, then”

Edward stops just the other side of the curtain. He stands there for a while before speaking, his voice low and shaking, “I have already taken so much from him.”

“This isn’t taking, Edward, it’s giving.”

“Giving?”

“Giving Alphonse not just his body, but his life, back. Imagine watching him as he experiences everything again, and all you have to do is give a small piece of yourself.”

“Here?”

“By the gods, no. The ritual must be preformed in darkness, with only the lit candles that hold the elemental spirits, while the Maid is high in the sky. She does not cross this place at an auspicious time.”

Finally, Ed steps back thru the curtains, but just, “Where, then?”

“There is a place in Central City, North 4th,and 7th Avenue North Arc. “ Near the river. Laboratory 6. It belonged to the State until 10 years ago when a friend of mine bought it. Technically belongs to the Seventh Sun Coven, but they haven’t used it in years. The basement is the place of power. You can access the Gate from there and affect the transfer and seal. The Maid will be directly overhead of this place on September 16th. She will be there for four hours only, from 9PM to 1AM. You must complete the transfer before she leaves. There are preparations to be made, so I suggest you get started.”

“I-I don’t know…” Ed’s voice trails off, “What if? What if I can’t do- _that_? What happens then?”

“There are a couple of outcomes. One: Alphonse stays in the armor. You give over his body to physicians who will keep it alive until you can locate the Philospher’s Stone. Two: The body dies. Alphonse stays in the armor. And, worst case scenario: The body dies. The crack in the armor you mentioned breaks the blood seal and releases Alphonse’s soul. Your brother is well and truly gone.”

Edward groans, “Fuck.”

Tarnak stands, “I will give you potions and oils to aide you. The four candles. Drink the potion. Use the oils. You will not fail. “

“Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me? Helping me get him back?” Still Ed’s voice is calm and steady.

Tarnak does not answer, but brushes passed the young man and into his shop. There he begins assembling a number of bottles, candles, a long, black handled, dagger, and pulls from it’s place in the showcase a sword. The sword is made from a solid piece of dark colored metal, it’s pommel, and cross guard, decorated with blood red stones, on the grip is etched the symbol for fire and the flamel. The scabbard is black leather, as is the belt and baldric that hold it. Tarnak helps him buckle it on, saying, “With this you will cast the Circle. Keep both it and the dagger clean.” The sword is hidden under Ed’s red coat. the rest of the items are put into a leather bag. “I have also included instruction for the transfer and seal. Be sure to follow them exactly.”

“I asked you _why?_ Why did you teach me this power? Why are you helping me?”

Tarnak only shakes his head, “Don’t question your Master, boy. Did you question Izumi? No, I think not. All I ask in return is for you to bring him here once he is strong enough.”

　

Al is sitting on the bed when the door opens. His soul fire eyes seemed to glow brighter in the darkened room, “Brother!”

“Hey, Al.” Ed shuts the door and set the leather bag down, unbuckles the sword and sets it down, too.

“Y-you’re home early! It’s not even dawn yet.”

“yeah, I know.” Ed sits down next to the armor, “Hey, Al?”

“Yes, Brother?”

“We’re leaving, going back to Central. Okay?” Ed grins up at him, “I know you must have made some friends here, so I’ll give you some time to…”

But, there were no friends to say good-bye to, not this time. For a person as nice and kind as Alphonse, even in the armor, it was unusual. Al could usually make friends, could find ways to spend his days helping others. It was what Al was. Normally. This time, though, in this town, he had just sat there in their room. As dark and silent as the night itself. If anyone had come in they would only have seen a huge, hulking suit of armor left abandoned. That’s how Al had felt. Abandoned. But now Brother was back. The sun, Al’s sun, Al’s universe had suddenly righted itself, came beaming in on a cheesy grin and shining golden eyes.

“No, Brother,” the suit of armor says, with a touch of sadness, “That won’t be necessary this time.”

“Okay, Al.” There’s a touch of sadness in Brother’s voice, as well, “Just let me get a few hours sleep, okay?”

“Okay. I can start getting our things…”

Ed glances in the corner where he’s left the leather bag and the sword, “No!” he says a bit too harshly, “Uh, just sit tight for a bit. Don’t, don’t be clanking around, okay? Let me get some sleep.”

“Sorry, Brother.” Al sits back in his same place, facing the window, the bed. His brother.

“Thanks, Al.” and Ed lays down, pulls the red coat over his shoulders, “G’nite, Al.”

An hour till dawn. “Good night, Brother.”

It wasn’t as Alphonse had hoped for or even imagined. Instead of the library, instead of searching out new leads for the Philosopher’s Stone, or even baiting Colonel Mustang, Ed chose, once again, his nocturnal life. He’d put on the sword, and go out and stay out until dawn. It bothered Al even more now that they were back in Central. What could Brother possibly be _doing_? Which is why Alphonse shows up one day in Colonel Mustang’s office. Wringing his gauntlets, and looking as sheepish as a 7 foot tall suit of armor could.

“This is unusual, Alphonse. You coming here without Fullmetal.” Mustang puts down his pen, “How can I help you?”

“Well, sir, it’s-it’s Brother. He’s been acting really weird lately.”

“Weird for Fullmetal, or just weird in general?” Mustang lifts his mug of fresh coffee, and starts to take a sip.

“I think Brother’s become a _vampire_!!”

The colonel nearly chokes on his coffee, “Come again?”

“Brother’s become a vampire, sir! In Crescent City he would go out at sunset and not return till almost dawn and he’s doing the same thing here. I’m scared! He’s killing people to feed his bloodlust! I don’t want to have to pound a stake thru his heart, sir!” Al’s distress is very real.

This is why Mustang suppresses his laughter, “Alphonse, there has been no reports of any mysterious deaths in Crescent City, or in Central.”

Now that the confession was made, Al got into it, “Oh, Brother’s much more clever than that, sir. He probably preys on vagreants and, and, “the next word is whispered, “ _prostitutes.”_

Could a suit of armor blush?

_“_ Alphonse, I’m sure there is a plausible explication for Edward’s nocturnal behavior. I am absolutely certin he has not become a vampire.” Mustang frowned, “Fullmetal said you were reading that new book, what was it? Dracula? You have a very active imagination.”

“No! It’s true!” Al insists.

“Have you tried following him?”

“Yes, but, he just _disappears_!”

“Have you asked him?”

“I’ve tried, but he just gets mad at me.”

“Alphonse, until you have more evidence, I will have to assume that your brother is not, I repeat, is not a vampire. Now, unless there is something else, I’m very busy.” Mustang picks his pen back up and pretends to study the papers strewn across his desk.

.                                                                                          

On September 15th Edward picks up his leather bag, buckles on the sword and goes out in broad daylight. He stops at a General Goods store, purchases a bucket, a scrub brush ,some strong cleanser and a lantern, then heads for Laboratory 6. Luckily the rickety old elevator was still working, he had made certain of that. He had also made sure there were no lurking chimeras and the sins were no where in sight. It had taken him nearly a week to make sure the building and it’s environs were clear of any threat.

That day, on the eve of The Promised Day, he goes down to the room he had chosen for the ritual. It is like a large cement box, and once cleared of empty beer cans and wine bottles, and a particularly foul smelling mattress, quite adequate.

Drawing water from a sink in an adjoining room, Ed strips off his red coat, removes the sword belt, and his shirt. Dropping down on his knees, he pours the cleanser, dips the brush into the water and begins to scrub the room clean. Floor, walls, even the ceiling. He scrubs and scrubs, changing the water often, until the whole room was spotless.

Once finished, he wipes the sweat from his brow, dresses and carries the bucket and cleaning supplies with him out of the building. He left the leather bag and sword behind, Transmutes the door into solid cement and starts for home.

It was sundown before he gets back home, and Al is waiting for him. Al watches cautiously as his older brother removed the red coat, and hug it neatly. That in itself was odd, Edward usually tossed his clothes wherever, often leaving a trail from the front door to the bathroom. He approaches Al, stands before him, feet apart, fists on his hips and says, “Alphonse Elric, this will be the last night you spend in that armor. Tomorrow, Little Brother, is The Promised Day.”

“Brother? You mean you did it?” Al sounds excited, “You found the Philosopher's Stone!”

“Not exactly.” Ed’s hands drop to his sides.

“You created it!”

“Not exactly, Al.”

“Well, what exactly?” Al sounds a little suspicious, “You’re hiding something.” A short pause and if Al had had had lungs he would have gasped, “Brother! You _are_ a Vampire! I knew it! You’re gonna turn _me_ into one, too, aren’t you? The Immortal Elric Brothers!”

Edward snorts, sputters, then bursts out laughing. “Holy shit, Al! That’s fuckin hilarious! How the hell would I turn you into a vampire? You have no neck!” Ed struggled to catch his breath, “I’d break my fucking fangs!” then burst out laughing again.

The soul fire eyes turned away.

Ed quickly gets a hold of himself and just smiles, “Hey, Al, I’m sorry, okay? Let’s talk about something else? Before we get into an argument?”

Al looks at him again, “But, how?”

“I said, baby brother, I don’t want to talk about it, okay. Just, just trust me? Please, just trust me.”

“Well, I guess..”

“You guess?” Ed frowns in mock annoyance.

“Of coarse I trust you, Brother.”

“That’s more like it. Now, may I have permission to lie in your lap one more time?” Once settled as comphortably as he could against his brother’s steele body, Ed sighs, “Remember, Al, remember all those times on the road when this was the only place I had to rest?”

“Yes, Brother.”

There is a long silence between them. It would have been a comphortable silence were it not for Ed’s mind whirling with what he had to do tomorrow. Getting Al’s body back from the Gate seemed like a piece of cake compared to, to…..he refused to think about it. Or about his newly acquired power. Or the fact that Tarnak kept calling him a Fire Warlock. Was that any better than Vampire? Which would he rather be? _I’m an Alchemist, damn it! And a fucking good one, too_ But not good enough, it seemed, to get his brothers body back. Not in nearly eight long, torturous , years. Years of searching one dead end lead after another. And when one rumor became more than rumor it always, always ended with someone dying. Usually, horribly. Then there were the Sins, Envy especially. That shape shifting bastard. They seemed to have left him alone in the passed couple months. Was it because of this warlock thing? Were they…frightened of him? Could he destroy them if given the chance? What could he do with both Alchemy and Magic? The two were closely related, yet vastly different. Would he tear himself apart tomorrow? Have to give his other arm and leg?

“Brother? Are you all right?”

“Huh? Yeah, Al, I’m fine. Say, what is the first thing you’d like to do when we get your body back?”

“Wow. I hadn’t thought much about it, Brother.” Al lied

“Okay. Well, is there something you’d like to smell? Like a flower? Or, maybe, Winry’s perfume?”

“You.”

“Me? Geez, Alphonse, that’s disgusting. I stink.” Ed sniffed his own armpits, “Yeah, I stink.”

The armor giggled, “Well, take a shower if you stink that bad.”

“Later. How about something you’d like to touch? Something soft and warm? Like…”

“A kitten?”

“Yeah. Or maybe hard and cold? Like..”

“You.”

“Me again? No. I was going to say ice cube, or something. You got some kind of brother fetish?” Ed joked.

“No.”

“Okay, then, what about taste? And don’t say me, or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Like to see you try.”

“Yeah. Right. Seriously: what would you like for breakfast?”

Al gave this some serious thought before answering, “Remember that little diner on Sixth Avenue South Loop and Cherry? They have those pancakes loaded with strawberries and whipped cream? I love watching you eat them.”

“What else?” Ed prompted.

“Oh, and a big glass of milk!”

“Ugh!”

“I’m not feeding it to you, Brother, it’s mine. And then, later, -um- oh! I know! One of those greasy looking cheeseburgers! From that stand near HQ! And fries, too! And, and a chocolate milk shake.”

“There you go with the milk again.” Ed groaned, “What’s for dinner, then?”

“Oh! That’s easy! A steak from RonJon’s. Like you always have, only cooked better.”

“Loaded baked potato?”

“Yeah!”

“And a green salad?”

“Yes!”

“What’s for dessert?”

“I can’t decide. Apple pie with ice cream? Chocolate cake with ice cream? Or just ice cream?”

“We’ll have them all.” Ed laughed.

Al laughed too, “Sure. Why not?” Ever the practical one, though, Al said, “If we eat all that we’ll get sick.”

“Be fun tryin” Ed said, “Won’t it?’

“I don’t know, Brother, I’ve seen you get sick lots of times. Looks like it hurts.”

Ed glanced at the clock on the night table. Eleven PM. He made a great show of yawning, “Guess I’ll call it a night.” He stood up, stretching, “Well, good night, Al.”

“Brother?”

“Yeah?”

“You, you going out tonight?”

“Nope. We have a big day tomorrow, I need my rest.” he gave Al a wink and Climbed into bed.

　

　

 

　

　

Edward has made a list of what he needs to do and on the top it wrote in bold printed letters: Concentrate! Which is why he sends Al out of the apartment on some usless errands that would take him the better part of the day.

Focus on the job to be done. On the battle that he would surely have to fight. Fight, not with alchemy, but with his new weapons. New, untried, weapons. Oh, he had been training, but training wasn’t like a real battle. Ed had learned that little lesson early with three broken ribs and the scar on his flesh arm. He stood before the full length mirror on the bathroom door and tried to make the fire come. Clap! Hands parted, but there was no band of fire erg. Nothing.

“Fuck.”

Concentrate! Clap! Draw the erg up and out. But no. Nothing. Ed tried many times before he notices his hands are shaking. Shaking. Violently. What if he couldn’t do it? What if he were too much of a fucking coward to even face the fucking Gate, let alone fight it. He covers his face with his trembling hands, “Why did I have to open my fucking mouth last night? Why did I have to tell him? Get the poor guy all excited and now I don’t think I can do it. We’re both gonna fucking die because of me!”

There is no time for this self pity. It was 5 o’clock, he only had four hours to prepare because in four hours he would have to face the Gate.

Concentrate.

_First the cleansing._

Ed stepped into the shower, running water just a bit too hot. He used a new washrag to soap up and scrubbed every inch of himself until his skin glowed pink. Then, into the tub, filled with the hottest water he could stand and poured the scented oils in. He leaned back, inhaling the fragrant steam, letting his wet hair hang over the side of the tub. He found that it was easier to focus now. The hot water and the aroma from the oils renewed him, made him feel stronger. Made the words Fire Warlock not sound so absured. In fact the words sounded powerful. They made Ed _feel powerful_ and confident and ready to take on the world. Just like he felt at age 10, just setting out on their journey. Before the World beat the shit out of him, raped away his innocence, and tossed him to the gutter.

The sun was starting to go down when Ed climbed out of the now tepid bath. Slowly, carefully, he started to get dressed. Everything mattered now, his every move, every thought and action, counted toward his goal. _This time tomorrow there would be a living, breathing, flesh and blood Alphonse by his side!_

Focused

_Dress yourself in black._

He pulled on a pair of black silk boxers, then the black tank top. Black. It all had to be black. Familiar black leather pants, these were band new. Everything had to be black and brand new. Even his socks. Black and brand new. He left the bathroom, down the short hall to the bedroom. Al was waiting there with a book in his lap and his eyes dark. Ed quietly went to the bed and pulled a large box out from under it. Sitting now, he opened the box revealing a pair of boots. Black. Brand new. Tall boots that ended just below the knee with a heel. They slid on easily. He tried walking around the bedroom, his heels clicking on the wood floor. Next, he pulled a knit turtleneck over his head, tucking the hem into the pants.

Outside the sun had gone down, and Ed judged it to be around 1730. If they left now, they’d get there before 2100. Before the Maid began her journey across the sky. Another package was brought from beneath the bed. This was neatly wrapped in brown paper. He tore it open, and took a moment to just look at it. A coat. Buttery soft black leather. Custom made and costing a fortune. He lifted it from the torn paper. It resembled his red coat but carried no markings. He slipped it on and it fit perfectly.

“Al?”

Al’s eyes lit up immediately. “Hello, Brother.”

“Hey, there, sleepyhead. Have a nice nap?” Ed was smiling.

“You look different, Brother.”

“Do I? It’s the new outfit I suppose.” Ed shrugged.

“You, you look nice.”

“Thanks. Now get up, it’s time to go.” Ed turned toward the bed, gathered up his old red coat.

“Oh! Brother! Your going to do the…..the transmutation?!”

“Um, yeah. Come on then, we have a ways to travel.”

　

They arrived at the deserted Lab #6, took the stairs down. Ed used alchemy to reopen the door to the ritual chamber. It was totally dark inside, even with the lights from the corridor shining in. Al was instructed to stand in the corner while Ed prepared to draw the array. He allowed Al to help him buckle the sword on, then pulled the heavy steel door shut. Now in total darkness, Ed drew his sword and placed the tip on the cement floor. He started to drag it along the floor, forming a perfect circle. Sparks of fire trailed in the wake, honing and sharpening the blade. Next, he drew the star in the middle, the pentagram. Three times he traced the circle and star, three times he walked carefully round. Counterclockwise. Widdershins the old legends called it.

Next, he set the candles at the four cardinal points.

_Black spirits and white,_

Red spirits and grey,

Harken to me and obey

Step into the circle, Al

_Four points of the circle, weave my spell_

East is for the break of day

The red candle was lit with the point of the sword

_South is white for the noontide hour_

The white candle was lit

_In the West is Twilight grey_

The grey candle lit up

_North is black, the place of power_

The black candle was lit and the room cast into eerie shadows.

_Three times round the circle’s cast_

Circle upon circle, pentacles turn

Inverted. Righted.

With my fire burn.

. “Stay here, Al.” Ed said firmly, “no matter what, just stay here.”

“Brother? I’m scared.”

“It’s okay, Al. Nothing here will hurt you.” Ed touched the armor, forgetting Al could not feel it., “Just stay here in the circle, no matter what. Whatever you see or hear, don’t move. Don’t. Move.”

Al nodded.

Satisfied, Ed drew the sword and slammed the point into the bottom of the array, into the bottom point of the star, right into the cement. The array glowed red and the circles actually began to spin, faster and faster, then it lit up blinding white for a second, then winked out.

The candles flickered as if blown in a breeze, but remained lit.

Al called out, nervously, “Brother?”

Brother was gone.

“BROTHER!!” he screamed.

　

　

　

　

_There is no place here for guilt_

There is no place here for fear

Edward found himself in a white void, surrounded by many doors. Gates tall and intimidating. Each one holding it’s own secret.

_You must be strong_

You must be determined

Ed looked at the doors from where he stood. Each bore carvings, symbols that were familiar. Alchemic principles carved in stone. Religious words and the names of marters in another. He turned his head to the left and saw that this Gate was darker and bore the pentacle and the image of Baphomet. It is this door that Ed laid his left hand on, willing it to open.

_By your own free will you have chosen._

The left hand path is fraught with danger

Pain and suffering only await you

Use the stone

 

“I carry no stones” Ed said aloud, “ I come only to take back what is rightfully mine.”

 

_What is yours?_

There is nothing here of yours

Alchemist.

Ed then turned to the gate on the right. It was carved with symbols of religions old and new. Names of gods, of saints, and marters carved in the white stone. On this door Ed laid his right hand, and commanded both Gates to open.

_You must choose!_

Right or Left!

Right or wrong!

Good or evil!

You cannot choose both!

 

“There is no good or evil! No right or wrong answers. Both the Right hand path and the Left are frought with danger! Both slick with the blood of martyers and fools. The world is neither black nor white, but shades of grey. THAT is where I walk! THAT is my salvation and my doom! “

_Fool!_

“I demand the return of my property!”

_Your property?_

You claim this pathetic thing as yours?

Al, or rather his body appeared at Ed’s feet. It was small, emaciated, and sick from years waiting. Waiting for his brother. Now that wait was nearly over.

This was freely given in exchange for your mother.

It is Ours now.

Ours to do with as We please.

Just a body. A shell. Empty.

It has no soul.

“You’re wrong! He has a soul! Mine!”

Laughing again, the voices said, “Fool, Alchemist!”

The Gate at the opposite end now opened. Slowly, it creaked open, and from it issued forth the writhing tentacles of hands, mouths, intent upon him. As the Gate opened more, he saw the eyes. Thousands, millions of them. This sight would have unnerved him before. Not now. He stood tall and proud and fierce. He was ready.

 

_What will you give for this thing?_

Your other arm? The leg?

Your heart? Your mind?

What payment have you, Alchemist?

“THIS!” Ed clapped, drew his hand apart. A long arc of hot flame formed between his palms. Hands back together until the line became a sphere. A sphere of fire. He hurled it into the Gate.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

The hands pulled him, tearing at his clothing, his flesh. Tearing him away from his brother, intent on tossing him out like so much garbage.

The tentacles stopped their pulling and tearing. The Gate stopped moving. Then a howl, a loud feral sound of pain and despair.

Edward Elric had begun to glow red. Even his irises that once were gold were now glowing red. Another fire bolt, and another, in rapid succession launched into the Gate, at those all seeing eyes. How long he stood there, how many bolts of flame he sent thru those cursed doors, there was no telling.

At last the voices screamed

 

_STOP!! STOP IT!!_

WARLOCK OF FIRE!

SOUL DAMMNED TO THE DEPTHS OF HELL!

REPULSIVE CREATURE!

STOP! STOP! STOP!

“Give back that which is mine!” Ed demanded again, “Give me my brother’s body!”

_And nothing for yourself, Warlock?_

Your arm? Your leg? What of those? Do you not want those back, as well? Just speak, and they are yours.

“I have come for my brother nothing more” Ed knelt and lifted Al’s body up into his arms, “Now open your Gate and let us pass.” All was silent for what seemed like an eternity, then the door opened just enough, and Ed stepped thru.

　

　

“BROTHER!!!” Al shouted as the array again began to spin, and then lit up. Then he saw Ed standing there, holding a small frail body in his arms. He laid it down within the circle, it’s head resting at the point of power. “Who is that, Brother? “

Ed wanted to say ‘It’s you.’ but didn’t. Instead he began preparations for the next, most important part of the ritual, the transfer of the soul into the body. He carefully arranged the body spread eagle inside the circle, then turned to the armor. “Al, I’m going to have to expose the blood seal, okay?”

“Okay” Al’s voice said quietly, “I don’t mind.”

Ed removed the helmet, set it facing away from the body on the floor, “Can you see at all, Al?”

“No, Brother. I’m scared, really scared.”

“It’s going to be okay, Al.” Ed said, trying to keep the fear out of his own voice. He lifted the little hand and, very carefully, set it over the seal. “Can you feel that, Al?”

“Feel what, Brother?”

Ed nodded to himself, then brought the leather bag over. He shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves. He knelt between the outstretched legs and opened the bag. The contents were known to him, a small ornate vial, one larger, sticks of incense, the black handled knife , and a clean square of black cloth.

Concentrate.

First the preparation.

Quickly now.

Concentrate.

Focus.

He touched the tips of the incense and lit them, breathed their scent, set them aside. With the dagger he sliced his left middle finger and drew the blood seal over the heart. Then leaned over and pushed it into the slack mouth, wiping the blood on the lips.

Lay the cloth over the seal to protect it.

Now drink the potion. Drink it quickly. It will help you.

Pop the cork on the larger vessel. Use the oil to prepare the body.

He coated his fingers, closed his eyes.

Concentrate on your intent. Focus.

Already he is breathing deeper, quicker, as his fingers do their work.

Only a few more minutes and he is panting, moaning at the heat pulsing between his legs. Hands shaking with anticipation, he unbuttons and unzips, pushing the black leather down just enough.

Shuts his eyes and

_pushes._

White hot, searing, tightness. He groans as his body takes control, leaving his mind to focus. Concentrate. The small body is jarred with each thrust, little fingers rub across the blood seal inside the armor. Friction seeming to dissolve the old blood and it travels up. Up each finger. The hand. Wrist. Arm.

He screws his eyes shut tight as his body picks up the pace.

“Oh god! Oh god! Please work. Please work. Please work.”

So close now.

Faster. Faster.

The armor’s seal is gone.

Oh, god! Al! Al!

He came with a howl, a feral sound, cried out to the heavens, to the Maid who, at that instant, completed her journey. Still his hips jerked as he pumped his life force into that listless body.

Then, something phenomenal happened.

Silver eyes snap open, there was a gasp from those blood stained lips. Quick, frightened breaths. Hands, violently shaking rose to feel flesh for the first time in years. Breath coming in gasps. The lips parted, little whimpers escape.

Ed pulls out, and yanks the black cloth from his brother’s chest. The new seal is there, over his pounding heart. Underneath layers of skin, like a tattoo. Protected. He is overcome and gathers Al into his arms, sobbing, “Baby! Baby, my baby. My love. Oh gods, Al, Al, I love you. Love you.”

Trembling fingers touch Ed’s cheek, and Al’s voice, dry and cracked whispers, “Brother.” There is something akin to reverence in that word. A little smile grows on those full pink lips and there’s no choice but to kiss them. Al sighs into the kiss, “Brother.”

Ed feels like he needs to lay there next to Al, pull him in tight and close his eyes to sleep. The cement floor is hard, though, and cold, the candles are nearly guttered, and the hour grows late. Just enough time to clear up. Ed stands on shaky legs, buckles the sword on again, then this leather coat. He crouches beside Al who is now shivering with cold and pulls his old red coat from the bottom of the bag.

“We have to get out of here.” he says to his trembling brother, “Don’t worry, love, I’ll take care of you.”

Al give a small nod, “I know.” The heavy steel door is opened and Al is wrapped in the red coat. Ed lifts him up in his arms and steps out into the artificial light of the corridor. Al whines and hides his face because the light hurts.

“It’s okay, love.” Ed kisses him softly.

The elevator doors bang open and makes Al start and cling to Ed’s shirt.

The ride up makes Al retch and gasp.

“Hang on, baby, it’ll be better once we’re out of here.” Ed tells him.

He senses something wrong, though, with Alphonse and this too thin, too sensitive, body. Something is wrong with Al. With the transmutation--No!--it wasn’t alchemy he used. The fire, his soul on fire. The Gate giving up so easily, too easily. Carrying this small body across, and then filling it with, with..

And the words he now used, “Baby. Love. My love.” The sword feels too heavy at his side, he wants to drop it. He wants to use alchemy on _something, anything,_ to feel normal again. Alchemy is normal. A science. An array drawn with scientific precision, it’s intent imbedded in symbols and words, activated by a clap and a press of his hands. What had brought Alphonse back to him, was not that exactly. Yes, it had been a circle, drawn with intent, a star within a circle within a star within circles. Activated with his will instead of his hands. The transfer of the soul from the armor to the human body was accomplished not with a red stone full of blood and death, but the giving of his own life essence. Pumping his own life into Al’s wasted body, then the eruption of his intent and his love. And, oh, it was exhilarating seeing those beautiful silver eyes open, hear that familiar voice without the hollow echo of the armor. The soft lips he had kissed. The feel of this slight weight in his arms.

They are still blocks from their apartment building when Ed stops suddenly in the early morning street. He pulls the red cloth away from Al’s face and what he sees sends a cold wave of fear down his spine. The face is deathly white, the breathing shallow, the eyes closed. “Al?” he says, “Alphonse? Talk to me, honey. Al?” and realizes his voice is rising and panicked.

Al’s lips move, but make no sound, as the little, claw-like fingers clutch at his shirt. It hits Ed like a fist to the gut, Al is dying, dying in his arms. The ritual, the _magic_ , wasn’t enough. His essence, his blood, his life wasn’t enough.

 

　

　

 

 

Ed had put his brother onto the narrow bed and was now reading the book Master Tarnak had given him. He read now the part he had only skimmed over before. The part about the Donor and the Receiver. The part about how their erg needed to be compatible. The part about filling Al with his blood and life essence. About how it had to be done three times.

 

 

 

First, to bind and wake

Second, the hearts to take

Third, the seal strong to make

　

Three times. It needed to be done three times? In succession? No, no, just three times. Three times before Al faded away. Three times under the midnight moon, the scales watching them this time. Alphonse had been born under the sign of Libra, the scales. He brought balance to Ed’s life, always had. Always would. Balance and more. Al’s erg was air. Ed’s was fire. Perfectly compatible. He pulled out some paper and scribbled down the part about Air and Fire and Libra. And where the _hell_ was he to get more of that potion? The oils? Did he need the candles? Must he draw the circle again? Must they travel to Crescent City, back to Tarnak, or was there a shop here in Central? After all Central was a big city, there should be, had to be a shop like Ancient Arts. Ed grabbed the phone directory and started flipping thru it.

“Brother?” the voice is weak.

Ed is instantly at his side, “I’m here, baby.”

Al is shivering, “Cold.”

Cold. Yes, of corse, Al was cold. He was too thin to hold in any heat of his own. Ed quickly covered the boy’s naked body, “I’m sorry, love. Is that any better?” No it wasn’t. Ed started rubbing at the blankets, using his erg without even realizing it. The blankets gradually warmed under his touch and Al nodded off to sleep again. With trembling hands, Ed opened the directory on his lap, and turned to the ‘O’s’. Occult. Occult shops and fortune tellers.

 

Ed kept his black clothes and riding boots on, but left the sword at home, on this foray into Central’s occult community. A community that was largely a joke, full of odd little shops selling crystals, candles and dubious spells. He was about to give the task up as hopeless, decided _just one more._

The name on the window read simply “The Black Rose” There was the usual display of crystals, quartz mostly, books and curios. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. It smelled of inscense inside, sandalwood and rose.

“Good afternoon, sir.” the woman behind the counter said with a professional smile, “May I help you find something?” She was tall, slender, regal looking, neither young nor old.

“Do you have these?” Ed pulled the empty bottles from his pockets, set them carefully before her.

She glanced at the bottles, then up into his eyes, “What is a Fire Warlock doing in my shop so early in the day?”

“I need these.” he said, ignoring her question, “Do you have them, or not?”

“I don’t _have them,_ sir, I will need to make them up.” she gathered up the bottles, “You may watch if you desire. I will not cheat you.”

“They expensive?”

“Not for you.” she assured him. “Who is your Master?”

“Izumi Curtis.”

The woman laughed, “I’m afraid I don’t know her, who is she?””

Ed lowered his eyes, “My alchemy teacher.”

“Alchemy?” she frowned, “So, warlock, you walk between. Who showed you your power?”

“Maurice Tarnak.”

“Him, I know well. Come. It won’t take long.”

The woman does not offer her name nor ask for his. She calls him “Warlock” only. Ed sits silently watching her mix up the slick gel, and the _other thing_. She makes two batches of the gel, one in a pink bottle for Libra, one in red for Scorpio. Of the other she made only one.

“Don’t I need two of those?” he asked

“Not after you use the first.”

“How much?”

“100 cenz if you promise to bring your Receiver to be blessed.”

“Why should I?” he asked, putting the money on the table, “Why do you all want to see him?”

“The Donor/Receiver relationship is rare, rarer still between males. Your Receiver must be very special.”

“He sure as hell is.”

“You needn’t return to the place of origin, your home will do. Use the candles I gave you, and the inscense. October 15th is the best day, between 10 PM and 1 Am. November 17th for the third. As close to Midnight as you can.””

“The blood? Must I?”

“Depends on how strong you want the bond. It isn’t required the second and third time, but I recommend it.”

With a nod Ed picks up the brown paper sack and starts toward the door.

“A word of caution, warlock.” The woman says softly, “Do not know your receiver carnally until the Balance is auspicious. Save your seed to nourish him.”

 

It was sundown when Ed stepped out into the street. There were more people out now, old and young, men and women, even a few children, all dressed in black. Most gave him a wide berth as he walked swiftly toward home, eyes fixed on the pavement.

_“Our bond is strong enough, isn’t it? We’re already bound by blood, does it need more? And what was that nourish him shit about? Fuck! It, it didn’t..come back out!! I went to clean him up and there was nothing to clean. Nothing. It was absorbed_ as, as a fucking nutrient? “

 

It was full dark when Ed finally returned home. He shed the black leather coat, and went straight to Al, “Hey, Little Brother, you okay? Sorry I was gone so long but I had to find something.” he did his best to sound like a big brother, not a lover or a _Donor_ , “You think you could eat?”

Out the only window in the small studio apartment, the waning moon was rising, causing Al’s eyes to appear almost luminescent. Al gave him a small smile, “I would like to try, Brother.” His voice was soft and still childishly high. He reached up with those little claw-like hands and briefly touched Ed’s face.

But, try as he might, Ed could not hold up the ‘Big Brother’ façade for long. He soon reverted to calling Al ‘Love’ or ‘Darling’ or Baby’. That was the worst. Baby. It sounded so demeaning. Al apparently didn’t mind. He didn’t seem to mind a lot of things. Like Ed feeding him broth, and spoonful's of soup, or helping him drink water, then milk. He didn’t mind when Ed trimmed his too long fingernails, or toenails, or brushed his hair and braided it. He didn’t even mind that Ed had to bathe him, or clean up messes once his body began to function again.

Twenty-seven days passed. The moon cycled thru her phases above the narrow bed in a tiny apartment in Central City. It was October 15th , late at night, the only light was from the full moon in the window. Ed was hugging Al to him, waiting. The great clock tower of the Main Library struck the 11th hour and Ed stood up. . Quietly, he gathered what was needed. Incense, candles, oils and potion.

_Second, the hearts to take._

Under Libra

Ruled by Venus the goddess of beauty and love

Pink candles, pink vessels for the oils and gels and aphrodisiac potion.

Pink represented romance, sensuality, and, love.

 

Light the incense. Light the candles. A quick slice of his middle left finger, trace the blood seal again, then into Al’s mouth. Not slack and unresponsive, this time the lips closed on it and _sucked._ Ed pulled his hand away. He quickly drank the potion.

Ed did not expect this time to be any different than the last, but it was. He kept his eyes open, though looking any where except at Al’s face. That beautiful face, the pale skin. He lay on top of Al, and started kissing him softly at first until the realization hit him: Al was responding. Kissing back, making little noises in the back of his throat. Ed pressed down on that little body, kissing deeply, hands exploring, seeking. Then, surprisingly, a breathless whisper in his ear, “Yes. Yes. Yes.” That did it. Ed sat up and, with trembling hands, began the ritual. Applying the scented oils, the gel to prepare, then the penetration and loosing all control over his body. Unable, this time, to focus or concentrate on anything except where they were joined. The a look of complete ecstasy on Al’s face, his fists clenched against his chest, and the small whimpers and moans drove Ed’s lust. His left hand, the one of flesh and blood, closed around his brother’s hard cock and stroked in time with his own thrusts. “Al! Al! I love you! Gods, Al, so much…love you…” as Al arched up into his touch and down onto him again, just whimpering, no cries of lust from him. Ed was doing enough of that for both. When the older finally came it seemed to last forever, he held Al’s hips against his own as he pumped his seed into that young body. The shockwaves vibrating even into his ports, as he sobbed, “Oh, Gods! Gods! Aaal! Ah! Love you. Love you. Gods!” When it was finally done, Ed collapsed beside Al, panting, heart still racing, he whispered his I love you. Small, thin arms wrapped around his neck and little kisses were placed on his face, “I love you, too, Brother. Thank you.” Above them, in the moonlight, the scales righted themselves and _balanced._

_I_ n the morning, or rather early afternoon, Ed finds things have changed. Firstly, Alphonse is more awake, he smiles openly, eats his food like he’s actually hungry, and gulps down two glasses of milk. Secondly, Ed notices the change in the way Al looks at him, kind of doe-eyed, and sweet, and then notices that he is looking at Al much the same way. Thirdly, although Edward has had crushes before, he has never really been in love. All the sweet, heart clenching, joy of just watching Al do anything, listening with rapt attention to Al’s every word, studying the boys body, and then there was the sheer bliss of knowing Al felt the same. They were in love, _in love_ , with each other. Two males in love was nothing new, it was accepted in Amestris, no different from any hetero couple. But, they were brothers. Brothers and _more._

More, much more. Donor and Receiver? Did the ritual intercourse constitute incest? Had Ed done the unthinkable? The thing he so vehemently protested months before, “I am NOT FUCKING MY BABY BROTHER!” but he had, twice now, with a third in the works. It all seemed worth it when Al crawled into his lap, or hugged his waist, or kissed him. The armor couldn’t have done that, and as much as Edward loved his brother, he could never have felt like _this_ about cold steel. He loved Alphonse intensely, maybe too intensely now. Now after the night under the Libran moon, he loved Alphonse as a lover. Ed couldn’t help but worry about their brotherhood, the familial relationship. Was it broken? Ruined? Did he even give a fuck? Because Al was warm, breathing softly against his neck, that little hand resting on his chest, on the new tattoo there. The blood seal that had transferred from Al’s heart to his and would not wash away. Even though, at first, he had thought it only there because of still wet blood and sweat. No, it was there to stay. Blending, and binding their souls together, wrapping them in the pink hearts and sparkles of true love.

Under it all, Ed knew, was darkness and fire. That woman who had sold him the oils called him ’warlock’ not ’alchemist’. And, warm, he was always warm now. The cooling weather of late October did not bother his ports as much as before, before all this, before he restored his brother, his lover. He preferred wearing all black now, the black leather coat as opposed to the red. The tall riding boots. He also liked wearing his long blonde hair loose. It made him feel powerful. So did the silver eyes watching him, always watching him, make him feel strong and powerful. They were filled with so much love, and he hoped his own gaze returned that love a hundredfold.

October became November and temperatures began to fall. Ed saw no need to light the fire, but he did because Al was cold and Ed couldn’t hold him 24/7. Though he tried. So he lit the fire with his magic and wrapped Al in a blanket, made him a cup of hot cocoa, sat on the floor opposite him and just watched. Ed was rewarded, as was becoming customary, with a light, gentle breeze. A breeze as soft as anything, warm like summer, fragrant with scent of sugar and a hint of vanilla, just like Al. Edward smiled then, a warm genuine smile of contentment.

 

_Third, the seal strong to make._

In just two days the full moon would rise and shine, once again, into the window above their bed. Scorpio would rule. Only two more days and their seal, their unspoken, unwritten, pact would be finalized. Two more days, but Al was growing weak again and the gentle breezes were gone. Ed was becoming more and more worried. Then the phone rings, it rings several times before Ed snatches it up, “What!?” he demands. The voice on the other end is familiar, annoyingly so. He listens for a minute then slowly hangs up. From the bed where he is resting, Al says, “Brother?” Ed comes to sit beside him, “That was Mustang.” he says tiredly, “He wants the Fullmetal Alchemist to report for duty.” Al takes his hand, “When?” Ed looks at their twined fingers and sighs, “The 17th., at 0800 sharp. Fuck! I won’t go! Fuck him! Fuck the military! No more!” Al feels the heat rising around Ed’s body and says quietly, “You’re not all warlock, Brother. You’re an alchemist, too. You walk between.” a soft little kiss to Ed’s shoulder, “Walk between now, Brother. You’ll come back to me long before the Eagle flies. Show the Colonel what he wants to see.”

Early in the morning on the 17th of November, Edward Elric became, once again, the Fullmetal Alchemist. He put on his signature outfit, put his long hair in a high ponytail, put on his red coat and the short boots. Left in the closet were his black clothes and riding boots, the sword. He sat on the bed, petting Al’s hair, he did not want to go. He did not want to leave his brother, his lover, on such a crucial day. He knows, though, if he doesn’t go, then Mustang, and the whole fucking military would hunt him down. Al was right, Al was always right, just go and show them what they wanted to see. Walk between left and right, darkness and light, don’t loose your temper, don’t show them your fire. The heat of a Fire Warlock. The erg that makes Mustang’s flames look like a matchstick

to a forest fire.

 

First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye is just hanging up her overcoat, putting up with, for now, the morning boisterousness of the office. “Hey, Havoc, how was the date last night?” “Did somebody make coffee? “ “Breda! Donut?”

The double doors open and Major Elric strolls in, gives Farman a nod as he crosses the room. The conversations have all but ceased. Fullmetal has been on leave for four months ostensively to follow up new leads on the Philosopher’s Stone. That is not the problem, however, for Edward has been absent for weeks at a time before with no visible outward changes. Now, after only four months gone, Edward has _grown_. He is tall, broad shouldered and golden, achingly handsome. He stops by the coffee maker and literally towers a good two inches over Hawkeye. Everyone watches as he pours a mug, hands it to Hawkeye, then pours another for himself.

“The Colonel isn’t in, yet,” and she almost fumbles with how to address him, finally opting for formality,” Major.” she says.

“Figures.” Ed shrugs, “Well, the bastard wanted me here at 0800, it’s 0800 and here I am.”

“Hey, Ed!” Fuery calls out from his desk, “Where’s Al?”

“Home, he wanted to do some reading.” even the voice has changed, it is deep and smooth. _Oh, gods, just wait till the female staff get a load of him, is the general consensus ._

Hawkeye returns to her cubicle, and Ed joins his fellow Military dogs in some light conversation. The same as it’s ever been, except no one is afraid of saying the word ‘short’, and discussing the new shrimp menu at Lee Won’s Restaurant does not produce a screaming fit.

Roy Mustang walks into the room, takes in the scene . If he is surprised to see the changes in Fullmetal, he does not show it. Instead, he stops only briefly, “Fullmetal.”

“Colonel Bastard, sir.” Ed smirks, because it is expected, “You wanted to see me?”

Roy opens his office door, “Yes. Hawkeye, we are not to be disturbed.” He enters, Ed follows, and the door is shut. Mustang hangs up his overcoat, Ed drops onto the leather sofa, sprawling long legs and arms,

“What do you want?” he asks. Not abruptly, not harshly, just asks.

Roy sits behind his desk, “Where is your brother, Ed?

“Home.”

“Why isn’t he here with you?”

_Stay calm, Al had told him, don’t get upset, hold your temper._

“ He’s doing some research. What’s this shit all about, Colonel? How come your so fucking concerned with Al all of a sudden?” Ed’s voice was still calm.

Mustang shuffles some papers around, “Ever hear of Laboratory Six, Fullmetal? According to recent records it’s privately owned, but the city police have been unable to find the owners. Seems they get regular complaints about parties being held there. Kids, you know?” Mustang smirked, “Well, a couple of these kids found this old suit of armor in the basement. Seven foot tall suit of armor. They thought they’d make some money selling it to a junk dealer. The junk dealer thought he’d make even more money selling it to an antique dealer. Long story short, Fullmetal,” Roy reached down and produced a steel helmet. A very familiar helmet, “I ask you again: Where. Is. Alphonse?”

“I told you, Colonel, he is at home. Reading. Taking some notes for me.”

“Then, what is _this_?” Mustang tapped on the helmet.

Ed’s brows knitted and he felt himself slip just a teensy bit, “How the hell should I know, you bastard? Couple of fucks find an old suit of armor in a fucking basement, so what? Al’s isn’t the only suit of armor on the fucking planet, y’know.”

“Then produce him.” Mustang says evenly.

“What? Why?”

“Why are you getting so upset, Edward? What has happened to Alphonse? “

“Nothing!” Ed gets to his feet.

Roy stands, leans over the desk, “I know you would never harm your brother, Ed, not on purpose. But, was there an accident?”

“No, fucking way!! Al is fine! Just leave it the fuck at that! “ Ed has raised his voice and the temperature of the room.

And Roy Mustang looks into the depths of hell and asks, “What did you do to your brother? He’s not an homunculus, is he?”

“Hell, no!”

“A chimera?”

“Fuck, no! I’ve had enough, Mustang, I’m leaving!.” Ed had his hand on the doorknob.

“Fullmetal, you will report for duty, in uniform, at 0900 starting Monday morning and every subsequent day thereafter, five days a week, unless I have a field assignment worthy of your talents. Do you understand?”

Ed turned and stared, but said nothing.

“Do. You. Understand?”

_Didn’t Mustang realize who he was fucking with? The power Ed held in his hands, power that could level this base, destroy the entire world? The darkness that was the left hand began to overtake him. The red aura appeared around his hands, traveled up his arms and around his body. His eyes began turning red._

Behind the desk Roy Mustang stood, arm extended, fingers ready to snap. He knew very well who, what, he was facing, but showed no fear. His features were unreadable, eyes steady and calm. A seasoned soldier ready for battle, ready to make the preemptive strike.

Ed stared at his command officer, the corners of his eyes twitched, chest heaving. Then, slowly, the fire aura faded, Ed’s eyes returned to gold.

“Understood.” Ed said quietly.

“Very well.” Mustang lowered his arm cautiously, “You are dismissed, Fullmetal.”

_Once Ed was out of his office Mustang let himself drop into his chair and allowed a held breath to escape in a sigh. Now, he felt his hands shake and beads of sweat ran down his face. Gods that was close! Comphorted by the thought that he could still control Fullmetal. But for how much longer?_

Haweye rapped on the door, poked her head in, “Sir? Is everything all right? Goodness, it’s hot in here.”

　

　

“Brother.”

Ed shut the front door quietly, tossed the red coat over a chair, “Hey, Al.” Kicked off the short boots, “Sorry I was gone so long, baby.” He sits on the bed, takes the small hand in his, kisses it. “That bastard wants me to start work again. Nine to five shit, five fucking days a week.”

“We can use the money.” Al said solemnly, “You think you can do it? Walk between for eight hours?”

Ed turns his head and looks at the red coat, “After tonight we could go away, far away, just us. You and me.” He sighs, “I’m being a coward, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

It is only a little past noon. The sun is beaming down, warming the bed, warming Al’s chilled skin. Ed grunts and grabs his latest book, an alchemy book this time, he sits at the table, “You hungry, baby?”

There’s a sigh from the bed, “I can’t eat yet, love. You should though, you need your strength for later.” Al feels his brother’s eyes on him, so he turns his back and pulls the sheet up over his head. Ed returns to his book, but can’t concentrate. He can’t stop thinking about Al, about that delicate young body. The soft skin, the full moist lips, those little hands that grip….Ed slams the book shut. He can’t take much more, his mind is reeling.

“Maybe, maybe, I _will_ go out for a while.” he says, his voice sounds dry and cracks in the middle, “Take a walk. Maybe eat something.”

From the bed, “Uh-huh.”

“Fuck! Al, I love you. I want you so **_bad_**!” he can almost _feel_ that body pressed against his. “Al? Baby?” He’s sitting on the bed in an instant, pulling the sheet from his brother’s face, “Just a kiss?”

“You won’t be able to stop at just that.” Al covers his head again, “ Go on, go out for a few hours. I’m okay.”

Ed stands up, Pulls on the long boots, the leather coat, and with one last longing look at the bed, leaves. It is windy out, which makes the autumn air seem colder. Withered leaves blow, skittering across the pavement, into the street. He walked, just walked, letting his thoughts move him. He tried to think of alchemy,

an array perfectly drawn, the equations for, for what? What? To get Al’s body back! No, no, that was done. Not that. Don’t think of Alphonse, you’ll drive yourself mad! Hours, only hours now, and their bond would be sealed for all eternity. Only hours before he could once again enter the heaven that was Alphonse.

The apartment is dark and silent save for the ticking of the clock. In the window above the bed the moon is full and golden. Alphonse lays naked in her eyes, his own eyes shut. The door clicks shut, the bolt slides and snaps into place.

Ed sheds his coat, his boots, his shirt. He collects the candles, incense and oils, carries them carefully over to the bed. With intent he places the candles, one on the right, one on the left, head and foot of the bed. He lights them with his own fire, lights the incense and sets it aside.

 

Third, the seal strong to make

Under the Scorpion

Secrecy, volatility, lust

Ruled by Pluto, god of the underworld,

The incense smells like peony and rose and dead leaves

Red candles, red bottles and vials

Red representing lust, blood

Ed sheds the rest of his clothes and crawls up onto the bed. Without prompting, Al spreads his legs and arms, making the sign of the pentagram with his body.

_The Philosopher’s Stone is made of blood_

Of lives lost to horror and suffering

 

Ed lowers himself onto the body before him, reaches over to thread the fingers of his left hand thru Al’s. Fevered, frantic kisses, metal hand exploring, rubbing, seeking . His hips move on their own, rubbing hardness against hardness. Their mouths lock and lips part, tongues clash. He slides down to lick and suck at Al’s neck, lower still to toy with a pert pink nipple. Their fingers release and Al’s body is responding to his brother’s hands. Then to his mouth, he moans and cries out trying to thrust up, but is held fast. Little fingers fist in Ed’s hair, and Al thrashes against the rising heat until he bursts inside that soft wet mouth with a near scream. This is be his first orgasm and it sets sparks off behind his eyes. Before his mind can settle, before the feeling in his legs returns, Ed is kissing him again. Mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue. A bitter salty taste in Ed’s mouth this time. Al sighs and gasps into that mouth,

_“Fill me. Feed me.”_

The pillow is yanked from behind Al’s head and tucks it just behind Al’s hips. The younger brother closes his eyes, _“Please, please.”_ Ed coats his fingers with the scented oil, gently slides one finger inside Alphonse, parting that sweet flesh with a moan. Was it like this before? Was it the aphrodisiac potion that clouded his remembering of this, this incredible feeling of _dominance._ He watches Al’s face, listens to the change in pitch of Al’s gasps and moans, and memorizes certain angles for later. One slick finger becomes two gently teasing, stretching, thrusting, exploring Al’s body from the inside.

 

_Oh, gods! All of you, if you do exist, is this what love is? Or is it the final damming sin? Is this truly something horrible? Unspeakable? And why, why, why? Why is this condemned in every era, every society? No! No! No! This is love! Deep, real, true love. Only love could make Edward do this to his brother._

Al’s moans deepen as his hips begin to move in time with Ed’s strokes. “Yes. Yes. Oh, Ed! Yes!” Al’s voice is still soft, gasping _._ Al is hard again, and Ed is almost amazed. He presses a third finger inside, thrusts once, twice, as his brother moans and writhes.

_Was it like this before? Did Al make those sounds under Libra, certainly not under Virgo. Did he beg for it? Beg to be taken this way? This is too much, too much!_

Ed withdraws his fingers slowly, grabs the third bottle and pours it’s contents into his hand. With one swift stoke he coats his weeping cock and enters his brother’s body, watching himself disappear between those pale cheeks. Ed’s world stops as he narrows down to a single intent focus, focuses his intent on the purpose, the love the need, the sliding in and out, the place where they are joined. Al looks into his eyes for a brief intense moment, then closes his eyes again, opens that lovely mouth in a long low moan, raises his hips to meet Ed thrust for thrust. They move slowly at first, then faster, harder

_This is like a dance. A dance under the golden moon, under Scorpio. Scorpion. Eagle. Phoenix. Ed is consumed by his own heat and_

Al has wrapped his arms and legs around Ed, pulling him in closer with each frantic thrust. He covers Ed’s mouth with fierce, hot kisses that leave them both messy. Ed’s movements become erratic, wild, he is so close to the edge, so close. There is no rhythm now, just frantic thrusts, the final rush to orgasm. Ed doesn’t realize that he is grunting like an animal. Then, suddenly, he feels Al come in a splash of white heat and Ed’s world explodes in a white hot blaze of light. He pumps his life force into Al’s body in shuddering spasms until he is spent, exhausted, and rolls off his brother’s body. He pulls Al in tight, and plants sweet, soft kisses on Al’s swollen lips and whispers, “I love you. I love you, baby.”

A warm fragrant breeze plays over Ed’s skin, and Al whispers against Ed’s lips.

 

_“The pact is sealed_

I am yours and you are mine

Forever and always

Forsaking all others

I go where you go

Your friends are my friends

Your enemies are my enemies

Use me as you will

And I shall use you

I shall walk the narrow path with you

In perfect love

And perfect trust.

Ave Domine Noctis.”

The clock tower chimes once, a new day has begun. Ed pulls the covers over their naked bodies, and feels Alphonse cuddle closer. His eyes drift shut and he lets himself fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

_In the night sky the phoenix rises from the ashes of what was, and takes_

to the skies.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by many things.   
> It took me months to complete  
> I can't spell.  
> My grammar sucks.


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